writing wednesdays: 'spotlight' series in the works

Writing Wednesdays

Introducing Stanley Bookman!

I’m going to draw your attention toward Stanley’s home a little later in the post, but I wanted to get to something else first; something I hinted at a week ago. Next week, I plan to launch the first in a series of “Spotlight’s on...” These guest blogs featuring various writer-mamas will take place the first Wednesday of the month throughout the year.

I’ve been thinking for a while now about the benefit of having guests featured here on Peace Garden Mama. For one, it’s a way for us blogger folks to share our passions and talents with one another’s readers -- spread the wealth around, if you will. Also, as a journalist and innately curious person, the interview process is one I enjoy and I believe it could work well when laid out here. I love the challenge of mining the mind of a person to reveal what makes them tick. And as I’ve continued to connect with other writers both near and far, the thought has come to me: why not feature some of these talented folks here? Why not shine the spotlight on them each month to offer readers a fresh writing perspective?

I’m thrilled to announce that I’ve lined up the first slate of “guests,” and that the kickoff will feature aspiring writer and soon-to-be-published-author Jody Hedlund. Both Jody and I are doing what we can to make the writing thing happen even while mothering a handful of kids a piece (makes me tired just writing that!). I'm fairly certain you'll find her insights as helpful as I have. I’m so tickled to see that Jody’s hard work on her craft and toward publication has paid off, and pleased-as-punch to know she will be sharing her discoveries here next week, October 7. Please stop by if you can!

In other news, “Granny Gayle” Jacobsen-Huset, fiction and poetry editor for the award-winning Stories For Children online magazine, recently interviewed my friend Mary and I while she and her husband were visiting from their home in Northern Minnesota. I hope you enjoy the results of our little gathering at The Village Inn across the river (Moorhead, MN). You can access both interviews through the link below and by scrolling down a bit until you hit, “Author Connection with Granny Gayle.”

http://storiesforchildrenmagazine.org/news.aspx

Happy Hump Day!

tuesday tidbits: got chocolate?

Tuesday Tidbits

This from a friend, P., who discovered this mug-o-cake recipe in Good Housekeeping magazine. It's seems especially suited toward those who want to satisfy their chocolate craving without baking a whole cake. Though I haven't tried it yet, I plan to very soon. You never know when a little chocolate might come in handy.

Mug-o-chocolate-cake

2 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
1 large egg
2 tablespoons milk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons chocolate chips
Small splash of vanilla extract

Add dry ingredients to mug and mix well. Pour in the milk and oil, mix well. Add the chocolate chips and vanilla extract, mix well. Put the mug in the microwave and cook on high for 2 minutes. The cake may rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed! Allow to cool and tip out onto a plate. Of course, ice cream would go well with it!

Enjoy!

mama mondays: a homecoming to remember

Mama Mondays

On Friday, my three youngest kids and I made a beeline south to take in the 2009 Shanley High "Deacons" homecoming game against the Central Cass High "Squirrels." Though we don't have any football players or high school students in our family as of yet, we went out anyway in support of our school and to take part in an historical event. It was the first time in the 74-year history of Shanley varsity athletics that the school's football team has had a "dedicated" home-field advantage. Every other Shanley homecoming game we've attended has taken place at a borrowed field, as has been the case for years and years.

It was a beautiful night, even though the skies had opened up with rain just minutes before game start-up time. The raindrops ceased right before kickoff, and from that point on, the night was clear and beautiful.

I'll admit, I'm rather a fairweather fan when it comes to football. For example, my corner of the house stayed fairly quiet Sunday afternoon, unlike my husband's, which shook and shimmied when Brett Favre helped bring the Vikes to victory.Football just isn't my thing, but I'll always remember Friday night's game.

First, the Bishop said a prayer to bless the field and its players. You can rarely go wrong when an event begins in prayer. Following that was an acknowledgement of family members of Sid Cichy, coach of the team for thirty years and honoree by way of the new field's name. Another of those who helped make it happen took a turn at the mic next. Shelly Ellig, a Fargo businessman, donated $1.2 million to the project -- and he's not even Catholic. Apparently, he felt called to do this for the greater good of the community. When he spoke, Ellig exuded sincere joy at being part of something beyond himself. What a great feeling it must have been to know he'd helped turn the field from mere dream to real life.

Despite my fickle attitude toward football, I was able to appreciate Friday night because it was about more than the game itself. It wasn't just about a beautiful new football and soccer field of which to boast. It was about investing in the future, giving the kids who will play there for generations to come a sense of pride and community. A lot of money goes into these projects -- money that some feel could be better spent elsewhere. And to some degree, I understand that. But I also got that the field was spelling out something more than "S is for Shanley" in its middle. It was spelling out "H is for Hope" and "B is for Believe." We believe in our younger generations, and we place our hope in them.

Following kickoff, my daughter ran around giggling with her friends, who'd spray-painted their hair red to show support of the Deacons; the homecoming court flashed their smiles and crowns; and I spent most of the evening trying to keep my charged-up little boys from clearing out the bleachers with their little-boy antics as I tried conversing with a friend. We ate hotdogs and popcorn and crunched M&Ms and watched the sun go down and the field lights glowing brighter. A vitality pervaded, and I couldn't help but feel gratitude toward those who had given up purchases of a more immediately gratifying flavor to benefit one school's youth athletic program.

Some people get that it's not just about today; that what we're doing here is really not about us but about the younger ones we are guiding to take our places, who will then guide the even younger generations years down the line. Life is moving forward, just as it should be.

And by the way, the Deacons won! Go Deacons!

thanks and new comments policy

Greetings readers!

Firstly, I want to thank those of you who follow my blog regularly. I appreciate every time you take a few precious moments out of your busy day to read what's on my mind. When you take another minute or two to comment, I am blessed even more, but even when you don't, I feel your presence and your reading eyes and heart through the numbers. Though reader count is not my primary motivator for writing here, it certainly makes it worth my time when I watch reader numbers rise. This month, my year anniversary of being part of the Area Voices team, my reader numbers have hit an all-time high. The same is true for my readership on my mirror blog, the one that started it all -- Peace Garden Mama at Blogger. So for this, I offer a hearty "Thanks!"

Throughout this journey, I have grown into my current formatting and schedule and hopefully that has been beneficial to you. I've come to understand the blogging world better and myself as well. Though I rarely see negative comments here, occasionally some slip in. I'm big on entering into respectful discussions and invite anyone with something thoughtful to say to share it. That said, as the author of this blog, I also retain the right to exclude comments that do not seem edifying or helpful to the discussion. No one is forced to read, of course. There are a wonderful array of blogs out there. If you don't like what you see here, I encourage you to scoot along to another blog. Comments that stray from respectful or helpful to the conversation will be deleted. I also will delete any comments from "Anonymous" unless they are positive. I come from a journalism background, and notwithstanding some of today's journalism practices, I learned to only use credible sources in my stories, and to never include in an article "an anonymous source said..." So I'm now employing that same practice here. Please, if you have something to share, I welcome it, but make it edifying, and show your face as I have shown mine.

Thanks again for all of your wonderful feedback. It has invigorated this journey for me. I don't know that I will be a blogger forever, but as long as I'm here I want to keep things light and positive, for the most part, and to continue to offer posts that will bring smiles and hope to all of you in the writing, parenting and faith journey.

Blessings and peace,

Roxane (Peace Garden Mama)

faith fridays part ii: from the horse's mouth

Faith Fridays (Part II)

I don't normally post twice in a day, but I'm doing so this day specifically for the benefit of those who might appreciate knowing better the crux of my stand on the topic of euthanasia. My earlier "Faith Fridays" post introduced the subject through my discussion of a book I'd begun reading -- and eventually closed prematurely due to the author's description of helping end the life of her dying friend. I guess in that sense, we are alike -- we both took part in the premature ending of something; her, of a life, me, of reading her book. I want to clarify first that I feel no ill will towards Lamott. I feel deceived and disillusioned, yes, but I can take a step back from those feelings and know that no one is perfect, and not all consciences are formed in the same way or to the same degree. We all have distinct journeys that we travel. I realize that. But there are times when even Peace Garden Mama feels compelled to speak out on something controversial. I'll drop the subject soon, but at the very least, I wanted to share what has helped form my ideals -- straight from the horse's mouth. I think most will find that it makes an awful lot of sense.

So, here is the explanation of the immorality of euthanasia from the Catechism of the Catholic Church, a document that came out in 1995 that provides the meaty basis of what we believe. Whether or not you agree with what you think Catholics believe (there's a lot of confusion out there, I realize), I challenge you to at least read this explanation, if you are at all interested in this topic, of what the church of my particular faith has to say about it. And if you agree or take issue, please leave a comment. I am always up for a respectful (key word) discussion about any topic of importance. And any life-death issue is certainly important. How can we learn and grow without such conversations?

To read the original discussion, go here first: faith fridays: when an author disappoints

The rest is pasted below.

With that, I wish you peace and blessings this weekend!

P. 549, Catechism of the Catholic Church

Those whose lives are diminished or weakened deserve special respect. Sick or handicapped persons should be helped to lead lives as normal as possible.

Whatever its motives and means, direct euthanasia consists in putting an end to the lives of handicapped, sick, or dying persons. It is morally unacceptable.

Thus an act or omission, which, of itself or by intention, causes death in order to eliminate suffering constitutes a murder gravely contrary to the dignity of the human person and to the respect due to the living God, his Creator. The error of judgment into which one can fall in good faith does not change the nature of this murderous act, which must always be forbidden and excluded.

Discontinuing medical procedures that are burdensome, dangerous, extraordinary, or disproportionate to the expected outcome can be legitimate; it is the refusal of "over-zealous" treatment. Here one does not will to cause death; one's inability to impede it is merely accepted. The decisions should be made by the patient if he is competent and able or, if not, by those legally entitled to act for the patient, whose reasonable will and legitimate interest must always be respected.

Even if death is thought imminent, the ordinary care owed to a sick person cannot be legitimately interrupted. The use of painkillers to alleviate the sufferings of the dying, even at the risk of shortening their days, can be morally in conformity with human dignity if death is not willed as either an end or a means, but only foreseen and tolerated as inevitable. Palliative care is a special form of disinterested charity. As such it should be encouraged.

faith fridays: when an author disappoints

Faith Fridays

Those who’ve been frequenting this blog a while know how much I love books, how I see edifying books as life-giving, and how, when I discover a well-turned phrase, I can’t help but feel compelled to pass it on. But from time to time the opposite happens. I might scour the library or book-store shelves and pull out something that appears to be a good match for my tastes only to find the opposite is true.

I’ve read at least one other book by the oft-quoted, bestselling author Anne Lamott. Bird by Bird was an enjoyable read about the writing process. Her words in that piece resonated with me, and I assumed erroneously that anything else written by her would have a similar effect. Toward the beginning of Grace (Eventually), I was with her, enjoying her insights. I even quoted her in my last post. However, everything changed last night as I curled up in my favorite reading chair to continue on and began to detect something unnerving lurking between the eloquently fashioned phrases.

The chapter where my admiring attention began to fall away is called, “At Death’s Window.” It starts: “The man I killed did not want to die, but he no longer felt he had much of a choice. He had gone from being tall and strapping, full of appetites and a brilliant manner of speech, to a skeleton, weak and full of messy needs.” Lamott goes on to describe her offer to help her friend, Mel, who was filled with cancer, choose the day of his death; in other words, to assist him in dying whenever he deemed the time right. She goes on to describe the evening she came to his home to help him snuff out his life, how she and his wife and a friend gathered for some food and drink, how Mel was “absolutely clear as a bell, brilliant as ever” as they swapped stories in the living room, and then, how this friend who was slated to die departed into his bedroom to change into something comfortable – his death attire, if you will. Meanwhile, she slipped into the kitchen to crush the pills that would poison him to death. She described her philosophy about all this very simply: “I believe that life is a kind of Earth School...so if you’re going to be leaving anyway, who says it isn’t okay to take an incomplete in the course? In other words, what is the wrong in checking out early?”

Lamott is a Christian, and this book is supposedly a spiritual memoir of sorts. It’s interesting to note her mention of several atheist friends who, when they learned what was to go down, did not agree with her intent to interfere with the natural course of life, including hour of death. But this did not deter Lamott. She would gladly do the deed out of her great love for her friend.

The chapter ends with Lamott describing how Mel, after choking down the poison (he winced like a child taking medicine, she said) eventually just faded off, “smiled and fell asleep.” After which point those who remained “got up to stretch, to get wine or water, to change CDs. Mel breathed so quietly, for so long, that when he finally stopped, we all strained to hear the sound.”

Here is where the chapter ends, and where I began to feel sick, not to mention deceived. Lamott makes it sound so lovely, so peaceful, so innocently executed and carried out. I wasn’t completely deterred, though. I read onward a while, convinced that if I took in just a little more, perhaps I would come to better understand her mindset. But I kept coming back to the twisted feeling inside of me, and her words that Mel’s life had become too “messy,” too fraught with need. So I surrendered by quietly closing the book and going to bed, unsettled and sad.

Now, I’m sure that if I were to meet Lamott at a writer’s conference somewhere, I would find her delightful as a person. She does get some things right. But, like the rest of us, she’s human, which means imperfect, like the rest of us – like me. However, I find her casual depiction of assisted death very troubling, and there’s more where that came from in the following chapter. This articulate, well-read writer views the taking of life as one might view taking the next step in a day full of steps – one no more important than the next. Even the atheists, the non-believers, could see the error in her thinking. It’s not only a matter of faith to me (though my faith life comes into play as I consider such things), but it’s also a matter of being in sync with natural law. God has imprinted truth into our very beings by virtue of God’s nature and our nature. Whether or not we agree on the source, truth has been woven into our souls. Sometimes we are better in tune to this than at other times, and undoubtedly, we are influenced by our experiences. But once you begin to justify one wrong act, it’s so easy to justify another, and another and on and on. Think the Holocaust, decades of slavery, and so many wars. One wrong judgment reaches outward and before you know it, thousands of people who had a right to live, dead.

I know that my job is not to judge Lamott. I will leave that to God. But at the very least, I can do something about the feeling that is eating away at me because of this book – the icky feeling of poison similar to that which was in the pill she helped feed to her friend to send him on his merry way. I can take the book and close it gently. I can offer up a prayer for her and all those who truly believe that this is the way to go – that we deserve to decide whether life is valuable and who gets to determine that and at what point we should leave the earth and how.

Perhaps the reason this chapter and at least one that followed rubbed me the wrong way is that I am an eternal believer in hope. I believe that every moment of suffering we experience on earth can become an opportunity to draw closer to our Creator. In choosing whether we suffer, the extent of our suffering and when our lives or others’ lives should end, we miss opportunities to put on the mind of God, to come into closer communion with God, to find that peace that we all want, even in (and, in fact, because of) suffering. I truly believe that if Lamott would have been a true friend to Mel, instead of helping him die, she would have been by his side while he lived, even if it was uncomfortable for her and for him.

There is no tidy ending to this post, except to say that the world is full of wonderful words and ideas, and at the same time, sprinkled with a good many that drain life as well, and we must choose cautiously what we take into ourselves, and what we offer back out. I am committed to offering up life-giving words, to perpetuate a feeling of hope, to stand firmly by life, even when that life is messy and/or inconvenient.

writing wednesdays: fool-proof cure for writer's block

Writing Wednesdays

Last night I was reading Anne Lamott's Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith, and I stopped here, where she's describing the act of offering up prayers to the Wailing Wall:

"This is something I do all the time, shove bits of paper with prayers and names on them into desk drawers, little boxes, my glove compartment. I've found that when you give up on using your mind to solve a problem -- which your mind is holding on to like a dog with a chew toy -- writing it down helps turn off the terrible alertness. When you're not siphoned into the black hole of worried control and playing fretful Savior, turning the problem over to God or the elves in the glove compartment harnesses something in the universe that is bigger than you, and that just might work."

Herein lies one of the keys to overcoming writer's block, I do believe. Release it -- even if it's imperfectly done. It doesn't matter. So many of us writers get hung up on writing perfectly the first time, but that's what the rough draft is for. More important than getting it right the first go around is getting it out there at all. That's where we need to start. Better to write something, anything, than to merely talk about writing and then not do it.

And that's where the second "cure" to writer's block comes in. B.I.C. -- three little letters that pack a punch. Though you might use a Bic pen to initiate the process, BIC is really an acronym for the key to the writing life: Butt In Chair. It's simple, really. You just plant your bottom in the chair and write...every day...as often as, and however, it can be worked into your life.

That, of course, is the harder part -- finding a routine, figuring out how to make it work without compromising other important areas. Those who really want to make this happen and not just talk about it will find a way. Put out of your mind any pre-conceived ideas of what a writer's space must look like. Stephen King wrote in a closet, and when he did get the fancy office he'd always dreamed of having after success came to him, he found he wasn't as productive. He went back to the closet.

I have a mother/writer/faith-seeking friend who has followed the above, and as of very recently, her BIC efforts have paid off. She's now staring at a contract with a large publisher with the words "three-book deal" and pinching herself. And, she's a mother of five children. In the near future, I'm going to feature her here as my first blogging guest. I have a feeling that what Jody will reveal about what she did to make it happen could be applicable to many areas of life.So stay tuned for that, and until next time, remember: BIC!

What are the ways you've overcome the blocks that have kept you from fulfilling your God-given purpose?

tuesday tidbits: commercial debut

Tuesday Tidbits

So, let's say you are in a new city, let's say San Antonio, for the first time and your uncle has dropped you off in front of the Alamo and asked you to wait for him while he goes and finds a parking spot. And let's say while you are standing there, you see, out of the corner of your eye, a TV camera, along with a reporter-type person speaking into it, and while you are waiting there with your umbrella and purse, a man from the small camera crew approaches you and asks if you'd like to be in a television commercial. What would you say? What would you do? Well, it happened to me, and though I was initially reluctant, I honestly had nothing better to do and thought, well, why not? Life is an adventure after all. You never know what you're going to get out of it. By the time my uncle found a spot and returned to the Alamo, there were no signs of any camera crew. I'm thinking that he still doesn't really believe I'm telling the truth about this little diversion in the day. So, if for no other reason, I'm posting it here as hard proof that it happened. It's actually pretty funny -- funny in that I tried hamming it up a little just for kicks, and I look pretty much like a dork. But, it made me laugh anyway, and laughter is healthy, so I'll take that, too.

And now, introducing Roxane's debut appearance for Freedom Chevrolet:

mama mondays: the achievement trap

Mama Mondays

All our lives, we parents have lived within a system of achievement and reward. We were conditioned to move toward a desired goal from infancy. When the outcome was deemed successful by the world, a reward often would be the result. As school children, most of us looked for the golden stars on our papers and the chance to hear our names at awards ceremonies. In whatever areas we excelled, whether sports, music, academics or all of the above and then some, we began collecting these prizes in our identity box and allowing them to define us.

For many of us, though, especially those who work within the home and not in the outside work force, we find this award system lacking during our parenting years. We can face an identity crisis because there are fewer and fewer golden stars to tell us we've done well. And after having relied on these external identifiers up until that point, it can be challenging to find ourselves again.

This has come to the fore for me after taking part in a national communications conference, where the vast majority of participants were women who have been extremely efficient in their professional lives. As a freelancer with five children, I was definitely in the minority. I had to chuckle when one of the gals with whom I was chatting at lunch my first day there asked with amazement after learning of my family's size, "You have five kids, so how is it that you look so relaxed?" "Well," I replied, "that's because I'm here right now and not at home!"

I did feel a bit like a fish out of water during the conference. Certainly, not enough to take away from my enjoyment of the experience. But many around me had lists of achievements much grander than my own. Many had accomplished truly amazing things in their career and were rightfully honored for these endeavors. I was truly happy for them, but like most who have grown up within the awards-system mentality, I had to fight off comparing myself to them and feeling inadequate with my humble, single award.

It didn't take long for me to put it all into perspective, though. I've learned the lesson before and will keep learning it, I'm sure. I reminded myself that my single award came about through diligently searching out a way to write in the rare, small spaces of my life as a busy mother. That award was mere icing on the delicious (and sometimes messy) cake that encompasses my life at home. But it was not the cake itself.

Even as I heard the long lists of achievements by some at the conference, I could feel authentic joy for those who are making their way in the outside world. There was no reason for me to feel outdone because I know not all of my awards and rewards as a mother will come in the form of a first-place certificate or trophy. Some of them will look more like this:

 

And yes, sometimes I have to remind myself of this -- that my worth should come mostly through raising and loving my children the very best I can, and that in the end, that will be more than adequate and worthy of the highest prize.

It is human nature to want to be recognized for our accomplishments, but hopefully we won't become so focused on the tangible trophy that we forget our very highest achievements are smiling at us, giving us a hug, showing us a work of art they produced at school, taking part in their first soccer game, writing us a love letter, telling us to have a good day. We all need a pat on the back every once in a while, but we need to challenge ourselves to not fall prey to the achievement trap the world coaxes us toward. We need to recognize that, just as we love our children whether or not they accomplish amazing feats in the eyes of the world, God loves and accepts us on the very basis of our being, and all we really have to do to be successful is strive, each day, to provide for our kids' needs and to keep ourselves healthy so that we might offer even more to them than we could otherwise.

Do you fall into the achievement trap, and if so, what do you do to get unsnarled?

soulful saturdays: the lure of st. mary's

Soulful Saturdays

My trip to Texas is a week old now -- practically prehistoric, the way life seems to fly past at break-neck speed. But I haven't yet completed the mining of that treasure. I haven't, for example, revealed that my very favorite part of the trip was a walk to St. Mary's church in Downtown San Antonio the Sunday morning of our return.

Going to church while on vacation can take extraordinary effort. Often, attendance depends on others. A traveler must weigh inconvenience to those around him or her, possible schedule conflicts, time constraints, etc., against the benefits. I faced all of these obstacles while in San Antonio, but I was determined, come Sunday, to get to Mass.

There's something about going to Mass while on vacation that I find profoundly comforting. It's a lure toward home, really, a draw toward the divine in the midst of unfamiliarity. I've experienced it many times before, so when Sunday rolled around last week and I realized we had several hours to kill, I began to envision an imaginary path before me lit up with glowing arrows floating with the words, "Go here. This way to Jesus." How could I resist?

In all honesty, it would not have been possible if not for the kind concierge at the Tropicano. It was he who took time to find the closest Catholic church to the hotel and the initiative to consult Mapquest for the quickest route. He also checked the weather and warned it could be rainy, but when I awoke Sunday morning, the skies were clear, sun shining.

And so I started off, compelled by a force that is hard for me to explain well in words. So many moments of the conference were exciting, but that morning, I walked with an extra amount of zeal. I knew that despite all of the cool things that had happened in the preceding days, I needed the quiet, the time to just sit, to contemplate not just my career but my life -- the soul part of it, the part that matters most in the end.

St. Mary's sits smack-dab in the middle of the city businesses that align the sidewalks downtown. You'll find no sprawling parking lot in any direction of the chuch. Instead, you'll be strolling along looking at other store fronts when suddenly it will appear, looming large and inviting.

And so it was that I found myself there, sitting in a side pew not far from a lit-up statue of Mary holding her dying son. I don't know if it was that statue, or the wrinkled lady wearing the scarf leaning on a cane in front of me, or the two children with the big brown eyes who walked in with their tatooed daddy, or the beautiful songs that lilted downward from the choir loft, but within a few minutes of my arrival, I began weeping. I began and I couldn't stop. And the thing is, there wasn't anything horrifying going on in my life. But as I sat there, it was as if I were Mary holding a dying Jesus, and I could feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wept out every sadness that came at me, quietly, occasionally dabbing my eyes with my travel-size tissues. My emotions were so engulfing, in fact, that I couldn't sing. Usually, one of my favorite parts of Mass is when I am able to take part in the music, but this time, I was unable to join in for more than a few measures before the feelings would return and take over.

It wasn't all sadness. There was something in this weeping that was marked with a deep-seated joy and peace. I wasn't necessarily crying for myself, either, but for others. Gratitude was also a part of it -- mainly for my faith, I think. I was very aware in the moment, the week of September 11, that despite feeling the weight of the world as Mary had, I also held the gift of faith in my soul. It is like the filthy gem miner who discovers a diamond. All is dirty in every direction, but that shining diamond sparkles nevertheless.

I practically skipped out of Mass, so happy to have experienced that unusual hour of accepting the weight of the world while also acknowledging the gift of it. And it was only then, and not a moment before, that I knew my trip was complete. I had come with great expectations and I had not been disappointed.

Time with my relatives, sight-seeing and the conference itself provided the box, ribbon and tissue paper of the gift, but the gift was a Sunday-morning visit with God.

In what ways have you experienced the Divine while far away from home?

7 quick takes friday (vol. 21)

Welcome to “Quick Takes,” an occasional feature that will never be quite the same now that I’ve actually met the host. I guess that’s a great place to begin.

---1---

North-to-South blogger luncheon. During the first day of a five-day adventure in San Antonio, Texas, last week, I had the pleasure of meeting Jennifer, host of this blog carnival. I’ve been following “Quick Takes” for quite a while now and have enjoyed being a part of it. Fargo is some 1,300 miles, 20 hours by land, from New Braunfels, Texas, where we met at a restaurant that boasts the best catfish in Texas. It was a rainy day. In fact, the area accumulated more rain that day since a year or more prior. The restaurant where we met must have had a tin roof, because when the downpour started, it was so loud at one point that we literally had to stop talking until it passed. And neither of us have what I would call meek voices, so that’s saying something! Our time together went much too quickly, but it was an absolutely wonderful way to begin my trip. Here we are:

It was really a rush when, just a moment after publishing the post about our meeting, I switched over to “Conversion Diary” to see if Jennifer had posted her Friday recap. I was shocked to read my name in the first very “Quick Takes” entry! I guess it would stand to reason that when two bloggers meet in person for the first time, they would, well, blog about the experience!

--2--

Speaking of the trip to Texas... I’ve been rather tenacious about covering various angles of my time at the National Federation of Press Women conference in recent days, and though it eventually will fade off as other elements of my life take center stage, I still have more to share about what I learned there. Suffice it to say that a highlight was meeting Heloise – yes, the one with the great hints. Here we are:

I also came away with a lot of great tips on being a conscientious journalist in today’s world, and, of course, absolutely enjoyed the sights of San Antonio, including the famed Riverwalk, which was a stone’s throw from the hotel where the conference took place:

---3---

Hint from Heloise: Adding vinegar to boiling eggs will not make them peel easier, as Heloise Sr. once suggested. So you wanna know the secret to peel-easy eggs? Heloise Jr. knows best: buy old eggs.

---4---

What I read on the plane: Show Me the Way: A Memoir in Stories by Jennifer Lauck.

--5--

Staying with my Aunties: One of the best parts of the trip is that my two Texan aunties took turns hosting me. I stayed with Aunt Jeannine the first night, Aunt Merita the second two, and at the hotel the final evening. Here are a few images I captured the first morning after my arrival at Aunt Jeannine’s:

---6---

September 11 mention: I feel honored by some words another fellow blogger said of me during her post on 9-11. Thanks Renee!

--7--

She’s getting married in the morning, er, evening: A good friend’s daughter is getting married this evening at the church where Troy and I married nearly 18 years ago. The groom is one of our oldest son’s teachers and they make a lovely couple. I can’t wait to be part of this grand event.

Here’s hoping your weekend will be filled with laughter and music as well!

For more “quick takes,” see Conversion Diary.

writing wednesdays: what the judge said

Writing Wednesdays

While I was in San Antonio for a conference last week, one of my readers asked, "But why this conference?" Why the National Federation of Press Women? Why not any of the other wonderful organizations that promote the profession of writing or mass communications in one form or another?

It was good for me to think about it. I guess I've just sort of taken it for granted, I've been part of NFPW for so long. But it's not the only organization with which I'm affiliated. I've also been a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators for many years, and even earlier on, in college, was involved in the Society of Professional Journalists. But NFPW has been with me since just after college, when my first career boss encouraged me to join. Falling under the national group is the local affiliate, North Dakota Professional Communicators, and citywide, the Fargo Moorhead Professional Communicators. Both of the local groups are strong. The state group offers several conferences of its own, in the fall and spring. The city group meets monthly and features a speaker or panel of speakers who are in some way involved in the communications profession. We meet for lunch (of course, food is the sure way to lure people) and I've rarely been bored by the talks that take place. Even when I'm not sure I'll benefit, inevitably, something spoken sparks an idea, and that idea leads to another, etc. I come away energized and connected to my profession, despite my freelancer status. Additionally, the organization hosts its annual communications contest and I've enjoyed sending in my entries the years I have something worthy to see how they will be judged by others in the profession.

I've won first-place awards at the state level before, but I believe this is the first year I've garnered a first at the national level. It was the most appropriate year, then, to attend the national convention. I was able to pick up my award in person along with other winners from all over the United States. North Dakota represented its state well, and I'm honored to have played a small part in that overall achievement.

It's exciting enough to earn a national communications award, but reading the judge's remarks was just as thrilling. It wasn't until the awards ceremony on the final night of the conference that I had a chance to view them, as well as to discover the judge's identity. What I learned helped me feel even more grateful for the win.

The category in which I took first place was special articles, religion, and the judge of my pieces turned out to be someone described by the commentator that evening as a standout in the field. In the brochure that lists her and the other judges, Dr. Grace Adolphsen Brame is named as a teacher of integration of theology and spirituality in the graduate division of LaSalle University. She's the author of three books, editor of two, contributor to three, and widely published in various journals and magazines with a spiritual/religious lean. "She is known internationally as a speaker, retreat leader and as a professional mezzo soprano, having officially represented United States in the former Soviet Union and in France on many occasions," according to the brochure. I'm impressed. Obviously she's someone with some experience behind her.

The comments themselves were based on two articles, submitted as one entry as required: "A Sacred Sculpture in the Making" and "Family to Serve God's Children," an article that describes a family's mission trip to Guatemala and thoughts upon returning to America. I won't write out everything she said, but will include at least some of her hand-written remarks.

Regarding the sculpture piece, Dr. Brame said, "Light touch combined with touching on an important, tragic circumstance, fine information on process and very real and well-spoken appreciation at the end."

And on the second, she said: "Excellent beginning - invites reader to participate in subject's though, emotions and value judgments...The process is uniquely imaginative...Even though this is not written in the first person, the beginning makes one feel Mary Schwab wrote it." [Though I don't know who that is, I'm going to assume it's someone who is much more seasoned than I.]

Then she added, "Both these articles were a pleasure to read."

How neat to not only receive the award, but also to read the judge's thoughts about them. This was the personal treat that awaited me in the last hours of my San Antonio trip. I waffled over whether I should share them here. It felt very personal to read those comments, like a gift waiting to be opened. But I also felt it was interesting information that would only get tucked away, never to been read again until, perhaps, my death. Which would have been okay, too. But, having promised more details of the trip, I figured this might fit into that.

More will come in time regarding the presentations themselves, so check back during future Writing Wednesdays for that.

If you've ever attended a writing, communications or other professional conference, do you feel they are worth the expense and time away from routine? Are conferences essential, or simply just helpful, in your mind?

tuesday tidbits: best ever hints from heloise and others

Tuesday Tidbits

I've had a day now to recover from my whirlwind trip to San Antonio, and now that I'm a bit more grounded, some of the gems from the conference (NFPW) have begun to take hold.

Here are three of my favorite quotes from the gathering, including one that I'm 99.9 percent sure came from Heloise (I'd scribbled it at the top of a notepad without attribution, but memory is pointing to the famed columnist). If I'm in fact correct about the source, I'd consider it her best hint yet:

"When others speak ill of you, live so no one will believe them."

Isn't that great? How often do we get tripped up on what others project about us, and really, how futile it is to let that kind of thing pull us down. The best response, seems to me, is to put one foot in front of the other and live, as Heloise suggests, to the contrary.

Here's one that came at the beginning of the conference by one of the opening speakers, who attributed the wise saying to TV news veteran Tom Brokaw:

"What good does it do to wire the world if we short-circuit our soul?"

I found that refreshing, and mightily appropriate at a conference celebrating the profession of journalism and mass media.

And finally, this one from Dr. Pat Love, conference speaker who has been seen/heard on CNN, Oprah and The Today Show, who offered an engaging presentation on "Love in Twitter Time:"

"The natural response to generosity is generosity."

Nothing more to say on that one except that it's love that makes the world go round, borrowing from an old Girl Scout song.

And speaking of love, I've said it here before and I'll say it again. I love a good quote. I love the power of a thought-provoking phrase that leaves my brain humming. And the best thing I can think to do with the wonder of a good quote when I hear or read one is to spread it around.

Have any good quotes or helpful hints to share? Please do in the comment section below!

fargo to san antonio day 5 (safe landing)

Fargo to San Antonio Day 5

We're landed, back on North Dakota soil. I love coming into North Dakota this time of day -- a time when the sun offers natural fill light, illuminating a vast patchwork of farmland.

And it's always a little wild, isn't it? Being in one region of the country in the morning, and finding yourself in another place entirely just hours later.

This morning was a special treat. I took a stroll through San Antonio to find my way to Mass. Here are a few of my favorite shots from my morning walk.

San Antonio, you gave a hearty welcome to this North Dakotan, and I thank you from the bottom of my Peace Garden heart.

I've been properly reunited with the bounty of family life now. All of the Salonen chicks and their Papa were at the airport to greet me upon my arrival. After the welcome hug, they eagerly inquired about the trinkets I picked up for them on the journey. Anticipating this, I had them in my carry-on ready to be dispersed: Alamo playing cards, armadillo earrings, a coon-skin hat, a glow-in-the-dark scorpion necklace and scorpion suckers (complete with edible scorpions encased in the middles).

I'm tired beyond belief, grateful beyond measure. Loved San Antonio, but there's no place like home, huh Dorothy?

fargo to san antonio day 4 (the wrapup)

Fargo to San Antonio Day 4

I'm writing this after midnight, so technically, I'm into the final day of the NFPW trip now, and in a matter of hours, will be home in Fargo reuniting with my family if all goes as planned. There have been some exciting things happening at home in my absence, including a funnel cloud that passed through Fargo on Thursday. Apparently, all is well, but, of course, it would have to be a day when I'm gone and completely unable to comfort my kids when they see their first tornado. I guess my reference to Oz a couple days ago was somewhat prophetic.

My days here have not afforded me as much time to post as I'd hoped -- not as much time as when I was at St. Ben's journaling away, that's for sure. And now, I'm spent from another packed but invigorating day. It ended with our closing dinner and awards banquet. It was really nice to be present to receive my first place award for religion articles and to read the wonderful comments by the judge. But even more special was when one of our North Dakotans, Martin Fredricks, won the Sweepstakes Award -- an award given to the communicator who has garnered the most and highest awards of the conference. Martin wasn't here to accept the honor so we whooped and hollered on his behalf. In an "acceptance speech" read by the award-giver, Martin gave a huge nod to our local chapter, North Dakota Professional Communicators. There was a lot of pride in the North Dakota corner of the room tonight. Our little state/affiliate also won third place overall for most awards won collectively. It's really amazing to come from such a humble state and yet to do so well in a national, professional competition. I think this speaks well of the hard-working, tenacious nature of our people.

Tomorrow, I'm going to try to find my way to Mass. I love seeing churches in other parts of the country. And then, it will be time for takeoff.

In the meantime, it's been a while since I've asked a question, and since I love the interactive aspects of blogging, I thought I'd throw one out to you in closing.

If you could fly anywhere in the world tomorrow, where would it be and why?

fargo to san antonio day 3 (heloise and me)

Fargo to San Antonio Day 3: Heloise and Me

It has been an absolutely amazing day. I still haven't caught up with all that I've taken in. In fact, it might be a while before I can. But it all began with a moving talk by the famed columnist Heloise, who spoke on the 50th anniversary of the inception of the column she "inherited" the night she lost her mother (the original Heloise). She was so sweet, so real, and it was a very interesting talk. I told her afterward that I think she should write a memoir. We'll see if that comes to be, but I definitely think there is a story there that would have an eager audience. Well, of course there is. It's just a matter of whether she's up to writing it. I, for one, have encouraged her.

And yes, I really DID meet and talk with Heloise. She was gracious enough to pose with me so that I would have absolute proof. (I don't even own Photoshop so...forget that possibility). It looks like I put on my blush in the dark this morning...boy, should have checked that before the camera snapped! Oh well, Heloise's makeup looks perfect, and that's all that really matters. Note my "first-timer" badge.Feeling so green here!

I'm anxious to share more soon, but right now I'm overwhelmed with information. However, here's a quick peek. The sessions I took in after Heloise's opening talk included one on blogging, another on social networking, one on writing a fabulous book proposal (we all got free copies of the author's book), and finally, a session on literary agents. All were greatly informative. I know for certain that one of my upcoming writing posts is going to be on the value of conferences, because you truly just can't beat meeting other writer folks face to face, whether it be other bloggers, journalists or book writers. It's such a great experience and all writers need to take in something like this at some point in their writing careers -- the earlier the better.

Off, now, to the evening banquet, where my cohort, Denise Pinkney, Communicator of Achievement for the North Dakota Professional Communicators (state chapter) group will be honored. Denise is a great person, along with being a wonderful communicator, and very deserving of this honor. I can't wait to see her shine.

Signing off from the El Tropicano hotel in Downtown San Antonio!

PGM

fargo to san antonio day 2

And now, day 2.

Always nice to have you along. Thanks for stopping by!

fargo to san antonio day 1

Fargo to San Antonio Day 1

Hope you'll click here to follow along in the early hours of my trip.

writing wednesdays: the plan for san antone

Writing Wednesdays

This is likely to bore most of you, but with a trip on the agenda tomorrow and a day filled with running as I ready to depart from five children for five days, my writing energy is pretty much spent, and the upcoming adventure is about all I can manage to focus on presently. Soon, there will be more. Til then, I'm pasting a lineup of the conference activities so you can "follow along." Though I will only be staying here one of the nights, the conference will take place at the El Tropicano Riverwalk Hotel. Sounds exotic, no? The other nights I'll be hanging in the evenings with my aunts Jeannine and Merita. I'm looking forward to that. They are longtime Texans; in other words, North Dakota traitors. But that's okay, because it means I get to visit them and that I must ride in a plane to do so.(I am careful not to say ride on a plane, because my kids conjure up very strange images of me riding on top of the plane, hair blowing in the wind, barely hanging on, when I say it that way.)

Alright, all. I'll look forward to "seeing" you soon from the Lone Star State! If you are taking a peek this week, please stop by and leave me a comment so I know you're visiting and can say Hi.

Toodles, and peace...

2009 NFPW Conference Schedule:

Thursday, Sept. 10:

(Organization meetings)

Lunch

1 p.m. – 2 p.m. Leadership Meeting
2 p.m. – 5 p.m. – General Membership Meeting
6 p.m. – 7:30 p.m. Opening Reception (Entertainment – Country music, line dancing)
7:30 p.m. – 9 p.m. Stop the Presses/Manny Mendoza and Mark Birnbaum

Friday, Sept. 11

Breakfast
8 a.m. – 9:45 a.m. – Morning Session: Welcome from Mayor of San Antonio and greetings from Sen. Judith Zaffarini, Texas Legislature
Speaker: Heloise

10 a.m. – 11 a.m. Workshops
B is for Blogging – Nattie Hartsock and Jennifer Hill Robenalt, owners, B is for Blog
Writing a Successful First Novel – John Pipkin, author
Plan B After a Buyout: Sex Appeal – Judge Janice Law, Houston judge and author

11:15 a.m. – 12:15 p.m. Workshops
Making a Living in Fiction – Jodi Thomas, author
Reporting Today – Kym Fox, Texas State University
Using Social Media to Your Professional Advantage – Larry Brill, Brill Communications

12:30 – 1:45 p.m. Lunch Speaker Sarah Bird, You Know You’re a Writer If. . .

2 p.m. – 3 p.m. Workshops
Writing a Book Proposal – Suzy Spencer, author, true crime books
T is for Twittering – Nattie Hartsock and Jennifer Hill Robenalt
Journalism in the Age of Obama – Bob Ray Sanders, Fort Worth Star Telegram

3:30 – 4:30 Workshops
Following Your Dream – Jodi Thomas
Working with a Literary Agent – Jim Hornfisher, author and literary agent
New Media – Monica Maecle, Editor, Businesswire

2-5 p.m. Authors’ Book Signing
2-5 p.m. Tech Petting Zoo (Reps from Dell, Apple, Radio Shack)
3:30 – 4:30 p.m. Education Fund Board Meeting
3:30 – 4:30 p.m. State Membership Directors Meeting
3:30 p.m. – 4:30 p.m. Tips on Winning and Running a Contest
3:30 p.m. – 4:30 p.m. COA Directors Meeting
4:30 – 5:30 p.m. – COA rehearsal

6 p.m. – Reception
7 – 10 p.m. COA Dinner – No Speaker Entertainment –

Saturday, Sept. 12

Breakfast

8 – 9:45 a.m. Morning Session - Panel on the Future of Journalism: Fred Zipp, Austin American Statesman, Bob Rivard, San Antonio Express News, Mitch Land, Chair, Mayborn School of Journalism, University of North Texas
Invitation to Illinois conference

9:45 – 11 a.m. NFPW Board and Committee Directors meeting

10 – 11 a.m. Workshops
Open Meetings, Open Records – James C. Ho, Solicitor General of Texas
Writing Networks – Cyndi Hughes, ED, Writers League of Texas
Ethnics: Do We Still Have Any? – Marg Carpenter

11:15 a.m. – 12:15 p.m. Workshops
Literary Publishing/Trends in Short Fiction – Melanie Moore, ED, Badgerdog Press
Nonfiction - Mike Cox
Love in the Age of Twitter Pat Love

12:30 – 2:15 p.m. High School Journalism Luncheon Kids Speaking UP

2:30 – 3:30 Workshops
Getting Organized – Betty Packard
Journalism Tools for Fiction Writing – Diane Fanning
Going Back to Journalism 101 -- Heloise

3:30 – 4:30 Conference Directors Meeting
3:30 – 5 p.m. – Authors Book Signing

5:30 – 6:30 p.m. Reception
6:30 p.m. – 9:30 p.m. Awards Banquet

mama mondays: staying home - no regrets

Mama Mondays

The other day, I had a vision. I was watching my youngest child trudging off toward the elementary school doors, heaving a big, old backpack and wearing a happy "it's about time" grin. In my mind, I watched from the van as he followed his siblings, and I sensed that I was feeling pleased in this "dream," even as a dollop of bittersweetness surged through me.

That day is not all that far away now. Next year at this time, God willing, it will come to pass. We all know how quickly a school year flashes by. Like lightning, really. There's not much time. And even though I will send him off into the world with mixed feelings as almost all parents of kindergarteners do, I will do so with few, if any, regrets.

During my college years and before then, I never envisioned that I would be a stay-at-home mother, but that's how the chips ended up falling. With the exception of my first half-year of motherhood and several part-time jobs at various points throughout the last thirteen years, I have stayed home with our children, though I've rarely gone without earning some kind of income, even if an inadequate one. Financially, being at home has come at a great price. Emotionally, too, at times when judgment from the outside has been cast. Some have erroneously assumed we chose this life because we were financially secure and had the luxury of doing so. For me, the decision was largely based on the emotional and spiritual needs of our family. I knew that as our family continued growing, I could not be there for them in those ways if I was busy channeling the bulk of my energy elsewhere.

Now is a time of looking back. Did we choose wrongly? Were all the naysayers right? Should we have opted for a different, more secure and certain course?

Certainly, we could have chosen differently. First off, we could have made a purposeful decision not to have as many children. That would have allowed me to head back into the work force years ago and ensured a more settled future. Or, I could have pursued a high-paying job so that we could afford daycare for a large family. But that kind of job would have taken me away from our family for more hours than I was willing to be away. I knew that for me, the emotional cost would have been much too steep.

In the end, we took each year as it came, tended to the things that seemed to be in most need of our attention, and moved along as well as we could. It has never been, nor will it ever be, a perfect life filled with flawless moves. I'm sure there are a hundred different things we could have done, but pondering all of those "what ifs" accomplishes very little.

Some might say I have wasted time at home, that we could have gotten further ahead and faster if I'd chosen differently. Some might feel I have squandered all those years in college, and that now, having spent the majority of the past thirteen years away from the work force, I've doomed my future career. But I have a different take on all of this.

When I look at the money I have earned in the past thirteen years, it is a fairly pitiful amount to be certain, and if I were to be judged by that alone, I would be labeled a complete failure. If the financial piece were the only piece of the puzzle, I would consider myself a gigantic loser. What I see, instead, is a mother who kept on working, little by little, both within and out of the hearth, and managed to reach several professional dreams while in the midst of wiping poopy bottoms, soothing owies and whipping up yet another batch of mac and cheese. During some of the most intense years of motherhood, I became a twice-published author and newspaper columnist. I wrote many freelance articles for both local and national publications. I became an award-winning freelance writer. One of my books, too, has garnered awards, and more recently, I delightedly entered the world of blogging, whereby I've been able to share even more of my life as a writer, mother and faith-seeker in ways I would not have imagined when this journey first began. Those are the tangible things that I see that tell me I have not squandered anything in the path I have chosen, even if it has rarely been easy.

As for the kids, it's harder to tell the long-term effects, but judging from how I feel inside, I think this, too, has been the right choice. I can truly say I have no regrets. Yes, it's been a tough road financially. Yes, the sacrifice has worn us down at times. Yes, we have, in moments, lost sight of the ultimate prize. But now that I'm this close to the end of the most tender years of motherhood, I can't say that I feel any letdown in how things have been. We may never truly know whether my being close has impacted the children for the better. We don't know how their lives would have been otherwise, after all, and whether they would have been less or more well-adjusted had I chosen different. At this point, there's no turning back to choose otherwise, but my heart tells me that, yes, it was worth the sacrifice. It was worth all of the struggling moments. Even though I did not perfect my mothering through being nearby and more often, I gave it the best shot I had for what I knew at the time.

I share this not to make anyone who has not been able to follow the SAHM course, nor had the desire to do so, feel badly. I recognize that every mother's path is unique, and I respect all of the variations. I'm sharing this mainly to encourage those who have made similar sacrifices as I have. It can feel uncertain most days, and the payoff might come all too slowly and may never be totally clear. All I know for sure is that it's true what "they" (those a little older and wiser than I) say. These years of our lives hurry by. What will we have to show for it when all is said and done?

I know what I won't have to show. I will not have the fanciest house in town. I won't have a lake home, or a boat, or an annual cruise to the Bahamas. I won't have a snazzy car, or a newly updated wardrobe every year, and our kids will be repeatedly denied many of the luxuries some of their peers enjoy. But I will have deep connections with my children. I know almost as much about my children as they do (some days, even more). I have worked hard to make sure they are developed in whole, not just in part. And though we are far from perfected, both as individuals and as a family, I truly believe my frequent presence in their lives has made a difference.

This year, I'm going to be dipping my toe into new possibilities. As the kids prepare to move out into the world one step more, little by little, I will be doing the same. Our entire family is exploring new horizons, and as our separations become more distinct, I find myself feeling even more grateful for the times I have spent nearby.

As a wise friend recently told me, "Life is all about relationships. It all comes down to that." And indeed, it does. I feel so incredibly happy to have learned that now, during the years when I've had a chance to truly make a difference in the way that I have. My job as a mother is far from complete, but assessing it now from where I'm at, I am at peace with what I have offered my children, even if my paychecks haven't reflected the truth of it.

What are some of the sacrifices you've made in your life that have been questioned at times, but that you now look back on without regret?

sweet wedding

The girls and I are in Minot, ND, enjoying memories of last night's wedding officially uniting my friend, Lance, and his bride, Karna.

Congratulations you two! It was a sweet wedding in all senses of the word.

faith fridays: in sunshine and in shade

Faith Fridays

Years ago, I received a gift from a dear college friend -- a small, framed colored drawing. The focal point is the backs of two friends sitting side by side on a hill, and under them, the words, "We have been friends in sunshine and in shade."

The above picture is one I took during my writing week at St. Benedict's Monastery in early August. For some reason, even as I posted other flower photos, this one seemed a stand-alone to me. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but it didn't seem to fit in with the other floral shots. The image seemed to be telling me something important, but I hadn't taken time to figure out. Until recently.

In the last couple days, I've gotten closer to what it is, and it feels symbolic. This sunshine-and-shade image reminds me of life and my relationships within it -- including my relationship with God. Sometimes, I feel like I am very much in the light. This might mean that I'm in a learning phase of my faith, reaching upward, looking around and absorbing the light through reading, talking with others, and moving outward in my search. But eventually, this won't do. Eventually, I must come back into the shade to absorb what I have learned, and if I sit still long enough, incorporate my newfound knowledge within my inner self. When this has been accomplished well, I am able to step forward into the light again and, hopefully, if I've spent enough time in the absorption stage, I will have something to share with others.

Staying in the light too long can be blinding. Staying in the shade too long can be counterproductive. A fragile balance exists between light and shade that we must learn to manage. Both are needed. The waxing and waning, the yin and yang -- both are required for completeness.

Right now, I'm not fully in light or shade. It's a transition time, and I am uncertain about some things, sure about others, but most of all, hopeful and expectant. It's a new year in my life as well as the beginning of the school year; a time for revising schedules and reorienting the flow of the family. We are figuring out our new places, trying to find the balance. It's a little unnerving and exciting at the same time.

One thing makes all of this easier, and that is that God is always light and cannot be anything but light. Even when my family and I move in and out of the shade, searching for our proper place, God is steady, always beckoning us to turn more fully in the direction of goodness, beauty and truth, just like the pretty little flowers front and center.

What woos you out of the shade and into the light?

come follow me

This is one of those rare off-schedule posts that is coming on the heels of the last, but I realized a quick mid-week update is needed for several reasons.

1) I forgot to mention earlier that I will be posting daily updates during my upcoming National Federation of Press Women conference in San Antonio. I really enjoyed bringing some of you along with me to St. Ben's (virtually, of course) and plan on doing the same while I'm down in Texas. Note: Among the highlights will be presentations by keynote speaker, columnist Heloise. So, if you're inclined, please, come follow me!

2) Speaking of following me, if you haven't yet, head over to the Google "followers" Friend Connect on the righthand side of the page. Even if you don't check in every day, I'd love to have you on there. It's another way for bloggers (and friends) to stay connected, and to add to our already existing connections. I'm at 29 currently. I've enjoyed seeing the slow and steady climb of steadfast "followers" (sounds so ominous) and would love to add more of you to my colorful box of "peeps."

3) Today, Little Guy got his spectacles. Oh, was he excited! (Oh, is Mama worried he's going to lose his glasses in the first couple days of their time with us!) He is simply not old enough to keep track of such things, so we are going to have to be vigilant in his stead. (I'm already saying my "please help us find..." prayers to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items!) Honestly, his eyes aren't all that bad -- slightly far-sighted is he. But, he's been doing some hard, frequent blinking this summer, more than what seems normal, and we're hoping to rule out something more serious than visual fuzziness, such as Tourette's. I'm hoping it's not that, but this should give us an idea. Either way, I'm thinking he looks pretty sharp in them, and hopefully, he'll be following everything more easily now with less eye strain. (If only he can keep them in place...)

4) Finally, I had a fantabulous 41st birthday today. Thanks to all who stopped by with birthday greetings. Many of you came through Facebook, and I was blown away by the thoughtful comments. Wow! The day began with a sweet and colorful note from my oldest daughter telling me she loves and appreciates all I do and hopes I have a rocking day (hoping this doesn't mean she wants to spend more money). Next came the hugs, one by one, including from Little Guy, who said with a rather somber tone, as if he'd been prodded. "Hah-ppy birfday Moh-um." (No exclamations, no enthusiasm, just the words). I'm sure that wasn't the case, right? This was all completely spontaneous and straight from the heart, no? Next came coffee with one planned friend and one surprise friend, lunch with hubby and Nick with a gift certificate at my fav restaurant, errands with Little Guy, and finally, a "Mom's Night Off" dinner, complete with cake that Dad swears he made himself but included a sticker from Cashwise Foods (hmmm....). Oh, it was lovely. Just sorry the niceties have to end so quickly!

I'll look forward to hearing from some of you while I'm in San Antone a week from today!

Peace to you all...

writing wednesdays: defined by writing (guts and glory)

Writing Wednesdays

I've made it. I've cleared my first year of the 40s. Forty-one seems a rather uninspiring age, and yet I'm looking ahead with a sense of excitement. I'm keeping it light, though: coffee with a friend, a fall day hanging with my 4-year-old and just enjoying an inner peace will do nicely, thank you.

But I was tickled to realize today would be a "Writing Wednesday." Looking back over the past 40 years, I see the story of my life in hindsight, and it's a rather interesting view from here. I'm amazed at the many ways writing has defined who I am, what I'm all about.

I kind of fell into this career by default. Having a poetic father and a great-grandfather who penned a book and many, many teachers (of writing and other things) in my life from the beginning, it seemed my path was, in some sense, laid out before me. It was just a matter of whether I would happen upon it. In time I did, because it seemed to be one of the things I did fairly well and I found the world of words a comforting place to be.

Even so, writing has never been, never will be, all that I am. But I find it interesting that, of all the things that I am, the label of writer seems to hold the most mystique to those beyond the writing circle, or those just entering it. The reality is that the life of a writer is typically no more glamorous than most jobs. Most writers don't write from a room within a rustic cabin overlooking a lake. Many of us struggle to earn a living with our writing. Few of us are rich. And it's hard work emotionally. Oftentimes there's much anguish and a mere pittance to show for it. Because of this, we sometimes question our sanity.

From the outside, it might look glamorous, or seem as though it should be. Some newer writers in particular fall into the trap of seeking publication for the glory of it. The rest of us know the truth of it -- the guts part -- and seek it anyway. We seek it because we believe we have something important to share, and we're willing to put in the hours to hone our craft so that our work will be ready to be birthed when the time is right. We're in it for the long haul because we believe in the stories within us. Long-haul writers won't get tripped up on visions of the limelight. In fact, most of us have a certain fear of being truly public people. We feel safer behind our computers, cranking out the words we see fit to share, than giving an acceptance speech on a stage. We're observers, somewhat introverted at times, oftentimes deep feelers, and almost always deep thinkers. We brood and release. brood and release; it's like breathing to us. And as Natalie Goldberg said in Writing Down the Bones, we live twice -- first, through experiencing it, and then a second time as we analyze and share what we've observed with others as we try to make sense of the world around us.

Despite the mystique of the writing label, or perhaps because of it, some people have a hard time admitting to being a writer even when they are one. It can take years for them to recognize, "Hey, I am a writer." Why is that? If you have an affinity for words and you take time to write each day, you're a writer. You might not even be published -- yet. But you're still a writer. Own it. It's not some elusive title only reserved for the most refined among us. As Julia Cameron has said, a writer is one who writes. Hmm, now that doesn't sound so mysterious, does it?

Because I've spent my career as a writer, I've never hesitated to call myself such. It seemed fairly obvious to me from early on. And maybe it helps that the mystique is gone, or perhaps was never really there. I didn't come into writing because I wanted to be a famous writer. If that happens, I'll be stunned. The odds are against it so I'm not going to think too much more about it. That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I'm looking for connections, wanting to share information, hoping to convey my take on life, and I'm counting on the fact that doing so will sometimes prompt someone to consider another view, even if they don't completely agree. I'm a reader too, and I know that one cannot be a true writer without also being a true reader. The two are indelibly connected. Just ask Stephen King, whose public disguise isn't sunglasses but burying his head in a book as he walks. (I once saw him on the streets of NYC in this very disguise, so I know it's true.)

I guess in sum I have to say that the writing life has been, for me, life in abundance, complete with a lot of guts and a smidgeon of unexpected glory. It's a wonderful thing to be able to share words with others, and, on a really lucky day, inspire a reaction. It's a life-giving exchange that I would miss deeply if I ever were to be stripped of my capacity to write. But I'm glad that I'm here more for the guts than glory. If the thought of glory was my motivating factor, I'm afraid the disappointment would be fierce. Writers are just people doing their work, and most days, that's about all she wrote.

What motivates you to write? Guts or glory? What is the source of the fire in your belly?